Farewell to the Life of the Rover
by StArRyStArRyNiGhTs
Summary: Murphy/OC. The last thing that Amanda expected to find when she walked in to work that morning was a naked man in her sink. Little did she know, that that was only one of many surprises to follow that would change her life forever.
1. Chapter 1: Surprise

Chapter 1: Surprise

It was a familiar rainy day in Boston that found Amanda MacNabb on her way to open up the pub for Doc. She wasn't sure what had happened with Doc – he usually called her in the mornings when he reached the Pub – so she decided to head down early to check on him.

Doc was her grandfather, and after had Da had died she had started taking care of him. Truthfully, the old man didn't need much taking care of – he was a hardcore Irishman and could deal with a lot on his own, as he had for most of his life. But he was also pretty much her only companion in this world these days, so she kept a careful eye out for him while she helped tend bar at the pub that he had owned for more than sixty years.

When she reached the familiar wooden doors, with their circular plates of glass etched with figures of Irish harps, she inserted her key and turned it in the lock. She was surprised to find the lights already on, but no sign of Doc.

She looked around – clearly, the old man had been entertaining some guests the other night. There were several shot glasses sitting on the bar, and the chairs were all pulled out. Other than that, there wasn't much of a mess. She was relieved. Often, when Doc's rowdy Irish friends came around, there was some heavy carpentry that had to be done the next day to repair the damage.

"Doc?" she called out. No answer.

Stacking the shot glasses, she held them against her chest and headed for the back.

She heard the water running, and figured that Doc must be washing more dishes. Tossing her purse on the table in the back, she knocked the door open with her foot.

"Doc, why the hell didn't you call? I was worr-"

She stopped short at the scene before her. A naked, heavily tattooed man seemed to be bathing himself in the pub's industrial sink.

The shot glasses fell to the floor, shattering into a million pieces. His head whipped around to identify the noise, but she was already running, screaming, from the room.


	2. Chapter 2: New Friends?

Disclaimer: I do not own the Saints or Doc. I own Amanda, and the episodes in this story that are not in either of the Boondocks Saints movies.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 2: New Friends?**

* * *

She hadn't quite made it out of the kitchen door and into the seating area of the pub when strong, wet arms closed tightly around her shoulders. She jerked and writhed every which way, but to no avail – the arms held tight. She continued to scream until she heard a distinct "click" and felt heavy metal press into her right temple.

"Who the hell are ye?"

His thick Irish brogue told her that this was probably one of the neighborhood thugs.

"Who am I? Who the hell are YOU?!" she yelled back, not struggling any more. She was pretty sure that was a gun he had pressed to her head.

"I asked first." He was yelling at her. He seemed panicked – he clearly had not expected someone to interrupt his bath time.

"Look, I don't have the key to the register or anything, so can you just – I don't know, tie me up and finish your bath or whatever the fuck you were doing in there and LEAVE!"

To her horror, she heard the sound of Doc's key turning in the door. "Gramps, no!"

She called out to him, but it was too late. He swung the door open, carrying a large brown paper bag from the grocer down the street. His shocked eyes moved from Amanda to her assailant.

"What the feck do ye th- th- think yer doin' ye ffffeckin' idyot?"

Amanda's eyebrows came together in confusion. She was being assaulted and he was yelling at _her_?

"Tha's me feckin' g-g-g-grandddaughter ye ass!"

Immediately Amanda felt the arms release her. She ran to stand protectively in front of her grandfather, still not entirely aware of what was going on.

"Oh, Jesus, Doc, I'm sorry. I dinna know. She – She dinna say!"

"An-an-and why the fffeck are ye nnnaked?"

"What the hell is going on here?" She yelled out as two more men came tumbling down the far staircase, guns drawn. Her hands held Doc hard behind her.

She noticed her assailant for the first time. He was younger than she thought he'd be. And more handsome, as well. She was, of course, a good Christian woman, but even so it took every ounce of her strength to not allow her eyes to venture south to check out his package. She was pretty inexperienced when it came to men, and had never really had the opportunity that she had now to analyze the male anatomy. There he was, pretty attractive, and bearing it all to her.

Searching for a distraction, she looked over at the other two men. One of them was definitely Hispanic, with a long, dark mullet and somewhat comical expression of shock on his face. The other she guessed was American. Or maybe Irish. His face resembled the naked man's. They all seemed to be in their mid-to-late twenties.

"Jeysus Christ, put yer ddddamned guns away. It's me gggg- me son's kid."

"Oh." One of the gunned men, the non-hispanic one, tucked his gun into its holster with a smile. "'Ello there. I'm Connor. Conner MacManus." He had an Irish accent to match the naked man's. Crossing the pub in a few quick steps, he held a hand out to her. "That naked fuck over there is me brother, Murph. Say hello to the lady, Murph."

"Hello." He seemed to have forgotten that he was naked. "Sorry about that back there. Doc dinna tell us he was expectin' anyone."

"I – uh – Grandpa, what the hell is going on?"

"Oh, well, I, uh –" She took the grocery bag from Doc as he settled down onto a barstool. "Amanda, th-th-these fellas are sssome old fffffriends of mine."

"How come I don't know them then?"

"How come you don't have an accent if you're Irish?"

"I'm only part Irish." She snapped at the naked one, irritated at his interruption. She looked up at him. "And, I'm sorry, could you put some clothes on maybe? This makes me kind of uncomfortable."

He looked down at himself, as if noticing his nudity for the first time. "Oh, yah. Of course. Apologies." He left the room and she turned back to Doc and the other two men. "Who are you?" She asked the Spanish one.

"Name's Romeo. Nice to meet you, nice lady." He spoke to her in a flirtatious tone and she smiled when he came forward and kissed her hand.

"Grandpa, I never knew that you had so many thug friends."

"Hey, hey, hey –" the one called Murphy emerged from the kitchen belting a pair of jeans. He was still shirtless. "Ye got us all wrong. We're na thugs, here, lady."

"Oh really? Because usually, when people hold guns to people's heads, they're thugs."

"Now, I told you, tha' was a mistake, ye understand?" he waved a finger at her.

"Grandpa, what's going on?" She asked for the third time.

"Well, sssweets, th-th-these fellas are gggoin' ta be stayin' on fffer a FUCK…ASS."

She was used to the outbursts that his tourette syndrome caused. "Fer how long?" she demanded, catching a bit of his brogue in her sentence as she knew she was bound to do at some point.

"Ah, now there's the Irish in 'er comin' out. O' course, while she's yellin' at a man, notice." Murphy said to Connor.

"Oh, shut up, will ye?" She bit her lip angrily at having done it yet again. "Will _you_?" she corrected.

"Shouldna hide yer Irish pride." Connor told her.

"It's not a matter of hiding it." She explained. "I was raised in America. I don't have an accent."

"Uh, but I just heard – " Romeo started, but she interrupted him.

"It just comes out when I'm speaking to – to Irish people is all."

"Ah! There it is again!" Connor smiled at Murphy.

"Enough. Now, Grandpa, I'm not gonna ask you again."

"Darlin', these fffellas are st st stayin' in the sssssstorage rum."

She turned narrowed eyes towards the delinquents. "You're in some kind of trouble, aren't you?"

They looked back and forth at each other and simultaneously answered. "No."

"If you get my grandfather into any trouble…"

"We'd never do that." Murphy assured her, taking a step towards her to exaggerate his words. "No one will even know we're here."

She just looked at them. They stood in silence for a few moments before she broke it by walking into the kitchen, presumably to put the groceries away.


	3. Chapter 3: Realize

You know the deal, I don't own the Saints or anything that sounds familiar to you.

If you're a stickler for authenticity, this probably won't be the story for you - I'm changing lots of things, including pretty much the Saints' entire second mission in Boston to accommodate my storyline. They are younger than we would figure them to be, started out younger, and things are not all chronological (i.e. the news broadcast that I copy in this chapter was actually broadcast while they were on their way to Boston via boat, but I'm having it aired after the arrive).

But, if you don't mind those minor inconsistencies, I hope you'll enjoy the rest of it as well! Thanks for all the feedback!!!

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**Chapter 3: Realize**

"Way to go, Murph. Scare the poor thing ta death why don' cha?"

"Well, how the feck was I supposed to knew she's Doc's granddaughter? Ye never told us ye had a granddaughter, Doc!"

"Yah, and certainly not one as pretty as that. Where'd she get her looks? Certainly not from you, that's fer sure."

"Sh-Sh-Shut up, ye feckin' idyots." Doc mumbled as he followed Amanda into the back room.

~*~

She had emptied out the grocery bag and was putting everything in its appropriate place. Doc smiled – he was glad to have a granddaughter who cared about him so much. She knew the importance of family.

"M-M-Mandi, I'm ssssorry. FUCK. ASS."

"Do you know what they're doing? What they _do_ with those guns?"

"I dddon't nnneed to ask, L-l-lass."

He heard her inhale deeply before she turned around to face him. "Do you trust them, 'pa?"

"I do. With me llllife."

"Then I will to." She declared with a firm nod before turning to finish putting the groceries away. "Might want to tell them to get back into hiding, though. We've got to open up."

~*~

Doc had kicked the boys out of the bar and they were playing pool in the "secret" speakeasy below. Well, Murphy and Connor were playing pool. Romeo was in the corner, practicing his "stick em up" gestures.

"So, uh," Murphy tried to phrase his question delicately as he lined up to knock one of Connor's stripes into a pocket, "That girl, uh, what's her name? Amanda. Uh, she's – she seems nice, no?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Connor agreed distractedly. He was losing to Murph badly, and he did _not_ like losing. Especially not to Murph.

"Dya, dya think tha," Murphy ran an uncomfortable hand through his hair, "Did she seem to notice me?"

Connor was lining up to hit, but he stopped to look up at his brother from beneath cocked eyebrows. "Uh, yes. A woman tends to notice when a naked man holds a gun to her head. It was probably a traumatic experience."

"Definitely." Romeo agreed.

"You know what I think is weird?" Murphy continued, staring down at the pool table. "She dinna seem to know who we were."

From across the room, he heard Romeo whip his guns out one at a time. "Naw, man, she definitely didn't know. Nope, never. We're totally like, incognito, man."

"Well, it's only a matter of time now. She knows something weird's going on." Connor moved to grab his beer from a nearby table.

"You don't think she'll say anything, dya?"

Murphy watched his brother mull it over for a bit. "No. Not if she and Doc are as close as they seem to be."

He nodded in agreement while lighting a cigarette. "She's sure a looker, isn't she?"

Murphy had been thinking about the petite brunette granddaughter of his friend Doc all morning. Her pale skin was the only indication of her Irish heritage – other than that, she really could have hailed from anywhere around. She had long dark hair and wide, bright green eyes. He didn't think he could ever forget the way those eyes had stared accusingly at him from across the room. She was little, that's for sure, but he was also pretty certain that she had the countenance to seriously hurt someone if that someone had done something to hurt her grandda.

But, he had said too much. As he took a draft from his cigarette and washed it down with a swig of Guinness, he could see the wheels turning in his brother's head.

"Oooh no," Connor's eyes lit up, "Ooohh no no no, brother!"

"What's that then?" he played dumb.

"Yeh've been talkin' an awful lot 'bout 'ow pretty she is."

"Yah? So what. She is. Yeh said it yerself."

"Yah. But yeh've been saying it more. A lot more."

"Ah, whatever man. I need another beer." He headed across the room to grab one.

"Yeh want to get a hand on that, doncha brother?"

He looked across the room accusingly. "No, it's not like that." For some reason, Connor's oversimplification of the matter really bothered him.

"Oh? Wha is it then?"

"Nothin'. Ne'rmind."

Connor just laughed.

"Hey, it's okay man. Women happen to the best of us." Murphy looked over at Romeo, whose presence he had all but forgotten.

He was trying to think of some sort of clever reply that would help him brush the situation off when the door swung open. All three men instinctively grabbed their guns.

~*~

"Okay, I don't mind you all being here, but you're going to have to stop doing that."

Amanda pursed her lips in frustration as she made her way through the door balancing three trays of hot food.

"Speak o' the devil." Connor murmured so that only Murphy could hear. Murph smacked his brother upside the head.

"Well?" She looked at all three of them expectantly, "Want to clear a place on that table so I can set this crap down?"

Despite Connor's earlier heckling, they all jumped to execute her request.

"Okay, you've got shepherd's pie, stew, coddle and barmbrack. I told grandda that you'd probably appreciate burgers more, but he insisted that you have something 'hearty'." She said the last word with a thick, mocking brogue.

"He was right." Murphy told her as they settled down around the table. "Traditional is always the way to go."

"Bullshit, man. This is not my people's food." Romeo pursed his lips in disgust.

"Sorry to disappoint. There's a Taco Bell down the street if you'd prefer."

Connor and Murphy laughed at the look of outrage on their Mexican friend's face.

She watched them eat with interest. They dove into the food with reckless abandonment, and she wondered how long it had been since they had eaten a home-cooked meal.

"Say, this is quite good. You make this yerself?" Connor asked between bites of barmbrack. She only half-nodded, half-shrugged in response.

"I don't suppose you guys need anything other than beer to drink?"

"Whiskey?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course. I'll bring a bottle back in a few."

Amanda turned to leave, but not before studying some of the boy's tattoos. True, she had seen one of them completely naked, but she had been a bit too distracted to study them. The two brothers seemed to have a very close bond – they had matching celtic cross tattoos on their forearms and complimentary tattoos that she couldn't quite make out on their hands. She also saw a tattoo of the Virgin Mary on the left side of Connor's neck that she was pretty sure she had also seen on Murphy's.

She liked tattoos – she had a couple herself – and she was always interested in divining the purposes behind them. Usually when people decided to permanently mark their bodies with an image or words, there was a reason behind it. As she headed back towards the bar, she made up her mind to ask them about them someday.

She stepped behind the counter and tossed some guy waiting at the bar the remote to the tv. He proceeded to flip channels as she poured him a Heineken. She was selecting a bottle of whiskey to bring back when her ears perked up during a news broadcast.

"There is no new information on the victim found slain early this week inside the Church of the Holy Saints. We have confirmed that the body was ritualized with pennies in the eyes. Many remember this as the grisly calling card of the prolific vigilante killers known as the Saints who went on a murder spree here in Boston. A rampage that ended eight years ago when the Saints brazenly walked into open court and executed mafia don Papa Joe Yakavetta before a courtroom of terrified witnesses and then disappeared without a trace. As authorities have yet to confirm the Saints' possible involvement, the ominous question hangs heavy in the air: are they back?"

A moment later, it all came together for her.


	4. Chapter 4: Knowing

**Chapter 4: Knowing**

Amanda waited for Connor and Romeo to leave the room in search of Doc. She singled Murphy out because he was the one who had threatened her before – she didn't feel so bad about going for someone who had already done something to deserve response. Once they had left him alone, she abruptly opened the door and marched forward with a compact Beretta pistol aimed directly at his forehead.

He probably could have pulled his gun in the time it took her to reach him, but he didn't move on her.

Instead, Murphy held his hands up in surprise, not really fear. "What the fuck?"

"Did you kill that priest?"

His eyes flashed realization, but he didn't respond immediately.

"Did you?!"

Before she knew it, she was flat on her back, pinned to the ground by strong arms and legs. Damn, that was unexpected.

"Let me go, you murderer! Does my granddad know?!?"

"Will ye shut up, already?" he asked her in a hushed voice, "NO! No, we dinna kill that priest! Okay!? We'd ne'er do that. We were set up."

She looked confused for a moment, but didn't stop struggling.

"We came back to _fix_ it, ye understand?"

Amanda didn't know whether or not she should believe him, but his eyes seemed to say there was no fibbing there. She nodded and stood still.

"Okay. Good. Now that we've reached an understanding – " Murphy was keenly aware of the physical risks of him keeping her pinned underneath him for too long, but he didn't care - his cocky side won over (no pun intended). "Where, may I ask, did you obtain this pretty thing here?" He sat up, one leg on either side of her hips, and waved her pistol back and forth.

"My dad." She turned uncomfortably for a bit. "Can I get up now?"

"Not yet, I doona think. But you can stop wiggling around like that." He inspected the gun for a moment. "This wouldn't do much damage, ye know. Especially when you doona know how to use it."

"I do so know how to use it!"

"It took me like, three seconds to get it away from ye!"

Before she could respond, the door swung open to reveal Connor and Romeo.

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

"Oh, not too much. Amanda here was just threatening to blow me brains out, is all." Murphy noted, holding up the gun for them to see.

Connor shook his head in disdain, "Not a good idea, lassie."

"Yeah, well, we just needed to clarify a few things." Amanda told him as she pushed Murphy off of her and got to her feet. "I'll be taking that, thank you." She snatched the pistol away.

"Amanda here just had a 'divine revelation' of who we are. Wanted to make sure we dinna kill the priest."

"Yer passion is admirable." Connor told her, grabbing a beer.

"Shut up." She mumbled as she stomped out of the room.

Murphy shook his head and rubbed his neck as if it was sore. "Some temper, too."


	5. Chapter 5: Eavesdropping

**Chapter 5: Eavesdropping**

That afternoon, as Murphy, Connor, and Romeo were getting ready to visit Romeo's uncle at his restaurant across town, Romeo located the speakeasy's peephole into the bar.

"Hey, lookie here. We can see everything that's goin' on down there!" he whispered to the brothers.

Connor and Murphy crouched down to examine the hole.

"This musta been how they checked to see if the cops were coming back in the day." Connor theorized, sticking his finger halfway into the hole.

Murphy swatted his finger away to look through. "Look! There's Doc."

Sure enough, Doc had just entered the bar and crossed the floor to exit into the kitchen.

"The bar doesn't seem to have lots of patrons, does it?" Connor wondered aloud. There was only one young man sitting at the bar, talking to Amanda.

"Well, it's only one o'clock yet. Not a lot o' people get drunk at one in the afternoon."

"I do." Murphy rolled his eyes at Romeo, who was taking a long swig from a bottle of whiskey.

Connor and Romeo left the hole but Murphy remained there, interested to see what transpired between Amanda and the man at the bar.

He was talking, and she was smiling. Did she really like this guy? Was he really her "type"? He seemed kind of goody-two-shoes to Murphy. He was wearing a business suit, complete with boring blue tie, and loafers. A pair of Oakleys was lying on the bar next to his beer. Disgusting. What a fecking tool.

"So, you commute here every morning from outside town?" the man asked.

Amanda nodded. "Pretty much."

"That's suprising. You seem like a city girl to me."

"Me? Oh, definitely not."

"Why not?"

"Well, the traffic, for one thing." She set a glass of a dark beer on the bar for him before taking a swig from a Strongbow. "And this air – " she gestured aimlessly around her, "It ain't fit to breathe."

"But it's great here. We've got all the restaurants, all the shows – there's nothing to do in the country."

She leaned across the bar to level with him. "If it's so nice and everything's so good here in the city, why don't you ever see anybody smiling?"

He smiled. "Touché."

Murphy grew grouchier by the moment. Was she _flirting_ with him? They were clearly completely incompatible.

"You sure don't sound like an Irish girl from Boston."

"Well, I'm not really. I was raised by my mom in Georgia."

"Ah. Thought I detected a hint of a Southern drawl, there. Very faint though. Atlanta?"

"Savannah, actually."

"What brought you to Boston, then? School?"

"Actually, I moved up here to live with my dad after mom died."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

He didn't sound sorry, Murphy thought to himself.

Amanda waved off the man's sympathy. "It was a long time ago." She finished off her bottle. "But, yeah, I've lived up here ever since. Got traits from both sides of the family, so I guess the Irish side comes out more when I'm around my grandda. Since he's so, you know, Irish."

The man nodded and sipped from his beer. "So, Savannah, eh? That would explain the strong disapproval of busy city life."

"I'm not saying that it's wrong for you, it just don't make sense to me." She shrugged.

"You've probably been snatched up by some guy by now, right?"

Amanda seemed surprised at his sudden forwardness. Almost as surprised as Murphy was outraged. She looked around, seemingly uncomfortable for a moment. "I'm not really on the market, if that's what you're asking."

"So, you're seeing someone?"

"No. But I don't really want to be, either." She began busying herself by cleaning the already clean bar.

"Why's that?"

"I don't owe anybody anything. Don't have to answer to anyone. I prefer to live that way."

Murphy's mouth cocked up in a half smile.

"But, if the right guy came along?"

Gah, would this guy never give up?

"If the right one came along," she began to answer him. Murphy was hanging on her every word.

"MURPH!"

He was suddenly aware of Connor yelling his name so loud that Murphy was sure everyone on the block would hear him. Amanda and the man's heads turned in their direction.

"That must be the trash guys out back. I'll be right back, got something to deliver to them. Gramps, cover the front will ya?" Amanda covered for them, secretly grateful to have an opportunity to get away from the businessman at the bar.

"Jeysus Christ, Connor – what's the point in havin' a hideout if you announce to the world where it is?" Murphy asked with irritation, turning away from the peephole once Amanda had practically run into the back towards the kitchen.

"Well, I was callin' ye and callin' ye and ye were so distracted snoopin' on guests in the bar that ye clearly weren't hearing me."

"Yeah, it's time to go, man." Romeo told him, heading out the fire escape. "My uncle's only at his place until three."


	6. Chapter 6: Late Nights

**Chapter 6: Late Nights**

Amanda spent most of her day at the bar, leaving only once to get some snacks. At about two in the morning she was sitting at a booth trying to sort through her grandad's accounting books for the bar when she thought she heard the boys enter through the fire escape. Moments later, Murphy came through the door to the bar.

He didn't seem to notice her at first, leaning over behind the bar, no doubt in search of whiskey or beer. She wasn't sure if she should begin a conversation or not, so she didn't say anything to him.

When he found what he was looking for – a bottle of Bushmills and three shot glasses – he spun around to leave and noticed her.

"Well, hello there."

She looked up from her papers. "Hello."

"A bit late for ye to be doin' homework, isn't it?"

"A bit late for you to be just now coming in, isn't it?"

He sauntered over and slipped into the booth across from her. "We tend to keep late hours."

She raised an eyebrow and gave a short nod of understanding.

"What are you working on here, then?" he asked, turning a paper around to face him. "Ah, Doc's accounts?"

Amanda only nodded.

"What? Now you don't talk?"

"I don't have anything to say."

"You were a lot more talkative with that phoney businessman today at lunchtime, weren't you?"

She looked up at him, eyes narrowed. "You were _spying_ on me?"

"What?" he looked at her with mock outrage, "No, never. Just happened to overhear your conversation, is all."

"Sounds a lot like spying to me."

"Nonsense. Irishmen don't spy. We – pick up information. Quietly."

The corner of her mouth cocked upwards a little.

"Ah! Is that a laugh, I see?"

She put her pen down and picked her head up, staring him straight in the eye. She was smiling. Murphy was taken aback at the sudden friendliness of the gesture, and by the intensity that her eyes rendered.

"I laugh. Sometimes."

"I have yet to see it."

"Maybe you haven't said anything funny."

Amanda was taking the opportunity to study Murphy's face close up. He was, she regretted noticing, incredibly handsome. Of course, the accent increased his attractiveness to her tenfold. That familiar pale Irish skin was accented with a little bit of stubble, more pronounced on his chin and upper lip. There was a single birthmark above the left side of his mouth. His short, dark hair was choppy, like it had been haphazardly cut off. He had light blue eyes that, though beautiful, looked exhausted.

"You look tired."

"Careful with the compliments, love," he smiled wearily, "You just might break down my resolve."

The smile grew bigger. "Not bad. Just tired."

"So, you find me attractive?"

"I didn't say that."

"But, you said I didn't look _bad_." Murphy was smiling – he had caught her! A slow, pink blush was creeping its way across the pale skin of her cheeks and she looked down at her work again. He inhaled deeply through his nose. "But, yeah, I've had a long day."

His words caused her to look up once more. He didn't like the way she was looking at him – head cocked to the side, gaze slowly falling down to the tabletop.

"What?"

She shook her head. "Nothing."

"No," he was frowning at her, "What?"

She started to speak, but shook her head again. About that time, Connor came bursting through the door.

"Murphy! What the hell is taking so long?! We sent you after a damn bottle o' whiskey, not an anti tank missile!" He looked around aimlessly until his eyes fell on the two sitting at the table. He smirked and held up his hands and began to retreat from the room. "Apologies. I didn't realize ye had a previous engagement to attend ta."

"No, I was just leaving." Amanda said in a hurry, gathering her pa pers. "Nice talking to you."

Murphy looked concerned. "You're driving home this late?"

"No, there's a room upstairs." She explained, heading for the same stairs that the boys used to get to the speakeasy. "Doc lets me use it when I have late nights here. Just, try to keep it down. Some of us work during the daytime."

They watched her retreating form head up the stairs and make a right turn where they would turn left to get to their hideout.

"You're making moves on Doc's granddaughter. Think tha's smart?"

Murphy shrugged. "There was no movement. We were just talkin' is all."

"Well, if you intend – "

"Shut up, Connor." Murphy rolled his eyes and headed upstairs to the speakeasy.

~*~


	7. Chapter 7: Murderers

**Chapter 7: Murderers**

Amanda listened to the boys jostling around on the other side of the wall for a few hours before falling asleep just as the sun was peeking over the skyline. She awoke at around 11 am and an hour later brought the boys lunch in their hideout.

"Pizza." She told them, tossing three boxes on the table.

She was moving to leave when Murphy caught her arm. "Stay fer lunch, woncha?"

He watched her eyes move from him, to the pizza, to Connor and Rom, to the pizza, and back to him again.

"It'd make us very 'appy men. Here in the attic, we're starved of female attention."

Hell, she hadn't had lunch yet - she shrugged and sat down at the table with them.

"So, what are you all up to today?" She asked, watching their hands move swiftly over the first pie until there was nothing left. She tossed the box to the side and took a slice from the next one.

"Oh, the usual." Connor shrugged.

"Kickin' ass and takin' names, chica." Romeo gave them away.

Murphy watched her face warily, and was surprised when she just nodded, concentrating on her slice of pizza. "As long as you don't bring anything unpleasant home with you."

They all nodded to each other, as if silently agreeing that they wouldn't.

"What about you, lassie?" Connor smiled at her.

"You do realize that to Americans, Lassie is a herding dog. You're calling me a bitch." She told them with a completely straight face.

Connor looked horrified. "Oh, no. I dinna mean that. I meant, well, in Ireland, you see-"

Her face broke out into a smile, "I know. I'm just messin' with ya."

He breathed in through his nose in relief, and Murphy smiled to himself.

"But anyway, I'm off today till 9 so I'm probably just gonna run around town. Do a bit of shopping. Get my hair cut. All that boring girl stuff."

"Take Murph with ya – he's into all that shit." Connor told her with a laugh. Amanda smirked as she watched Murphy's face redden.

"I'm kind of a solo flyer, actually." She explained, standing up. "Thanks for the lunch date. I've gotta run."

"Yeah, us too." Murphy said, standing with her. "But, I guess, I'll see you later?"

"I'll be here." She told him with a shrug.

He nodded. "Alright then."

"You kids be careful." She called to them over her shoulder as she left. She heard a chorus of "we will's" follow her out the door.

~*~

Amanda was still at the bar when the boys returned around 8 pm. As per Doc's request, she closed the bar for their personal use around 1 am. Of course, on a Tuesday night there weren't many patrons to turn away, but she was still concerned about the possible loss of business.

At about 2 am, she heard their guests arrive. Seconds later, she heard screaming and was running for the door.

She didn't know whether to be angry or relieved when she saw the brothers spraying three men with two of the bar's soda guns. They were laughing, clearly friends.

"You don't write!? You don't fuckin' call!" Connor yelled at the men.

Murphy took a puff from a cigarette and waved it at them "You should be ashamed o' yerselves!"

The men continued their reuniting celebration for several minutes before they noticed her. "Oh, 'ello there Mandi." Murphy acknowledged her with a smile.

"Just in time!" Connor nodded towards her, "A round, all around!"

Amanda was a little annoyed that they were asking her to play bartender at their shindig, but she was interested to see what they were up to.

"Y'all are gonna clean this up, right?" She asked, splashing the soda water that had begun to pool on the hardwood floor around with her feet.

"O' course!" Murphy threw a towel over it. She rolled her eyes and took his place behind the bar.

"Darling, these are Detectives Dolly, Duffy, and Greenly, some old friends. And this is a new friend, Special Agent Eunice Bloom."

Amanda didn't like the way he touched the agent's back as he introduced her.

"Friends, meet friend. Amanda here has been kind enough to shelter us."

"Not exactly true." Amanda told the detectives. "My grandfather, Doc, is sheltering them. I'm just – here. What'll ya have?"

~*~

Amanda watched the scene unfold before her with keen interest. She felt a little more comfortable with the boys – they seemed friendly enough and if three cops and an FBI agent were on their side, then they couldn't be that bad. Right?

The cops had beers, the Saints had shots, and the agent ordered a martini. Of course – a snooty drink for a snooty person.

Amanda didn't understand her sudden dislike for the woman, Eunice Bloom. They shared a southern heritage, and she was pleasant enough to her, and was helping out the guys, all positive things. But nonetheless, something about her rubbed Amanda the wrong way. Maybe it was her sly smirk, or her flirtatious laugh, or her tight clothes, or the way Murphy leaned completely in her direction at the bar. They were sitting too close to one another, she decided, and she kept a keen, analytical eye on them.

She also noticed that Murphy had been chain smoking all night long. Every time he lit one up, he made sure to have another tucked behind his ear. Her dad had smoked that way, every time he was nervous about something.

Of course, his nervousness might have nothing to do with Eunice Bloom and could have had everything to do with the "job" that they were discussing, right there at the bar in front of her. It was all about a local crime boss, Yakavetta, that much she knew. But there was another person, a Sicilian named Panza, that they were talking about. They needed to get these people out of the way, or at least that seemed like the plan.

"We're hittin' him in 48 hours. That fast enough fer ya?" Murphy was telling the FBI agent who he seemed so keen on. Amanda watched him through narrowed eyes, not sure if she liked this side of him.

"Should be. Where's it gonna happen?"

"The Pru." Connor answered.

The cops looked worried. "The Prudential? What're you, cracked?"

"Why don't you just do it on center ice at a fuckin' Bruins game?" another asked.

Connor just looked at them. "That's where the man is, so that's where we're going. No guts, no glory, green beans."

"In fact, we could use a few extra hands hands. That is, if you boys can still get yer Irish on." Amanda looked at Murphy with disdain as he made a ball-grabbing gesture with his hands.

Amanda heard the cops say they were interested and turned to start cleaning the taps, not wanting to hear the details. The less she knew, the better.

"Connor, Murphy, escort a lady to the door."

At the sound of the FBI agent's voice, Amanda turned around to watch her saunter from the room, one arm looped around each brother's. She watched jealously as they turned to exchange intimate words in the entryway.

"So, Amanda, which one is yours?"

She pulled her eyes away from the scene to look at the cop known as Duffy. "Huh?"

"The brothers. Which one is yours?"

"I'm not sure I understand."

"You're dating one, right?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not."

"Really? I was sure – I thought for sure you and Murph – Ah well, never mind."

"I don't date killers." She told him curtly, grabbing his glass to fill it up.

Detective Greenly shook his head, "Wait just a minute. These guys – you have no idea the amount of good that they do for the community."

"Its gratuitous violence, is what it is. There are other ways to end crime."

Amanda wasn't even sure she believed in what she was saying. She was just so mad that she couldn't help it.

They grew quiet as the brothers returned to the bar.

"I'm going to bed." Amanda declared. "You guys put the stuff in the sink when you're done."

Murphy watched her leave the room with confusion.

"She alright?" he asked the detectives. "I hope one of you two idiots didn't piss her off."

"No," Dolly shook his head, "Not us."

"What then? Was it us?"

They all shrugged.

"What the fuck did we do? We're not even talking to her."

"Maybe that's part of the problem, man." Romeo suggested.

"Ah man." Murphy stood up, "I'm gonna go talk to 'er."

"But we're gonna discuss the plan!"

"I know the feckin' plan, man. I'll be right back."

~*~

He found her in the room she had retreated to the night before. His first knock was followed by silence, but when he knocked the second time the door opened a crack. Just her face poked through, but he could instantly smell her – even more so than he could when she was behind the bar, her scent intermingled with that of booze and cigarette smoke. This room was clearly all hers – it smelled just like her.

"Sup?"

"Dya have a minute?"

She thought about it for a second before swinging the door open.

The room was small, quaint, with just a tiny twin sized bed in the corner, a nightstand next to it, a purple armchair and a dresser on the opposite side of the room. A small window was next to a door that he figured led to the bathroom. It was dark, shady, lit by candles despite the fact that there was a light fixture hanging in the center of the room.

"You don't use the light?"

"I prefer the candles. The light is fluorescent – a little too harsh. Gives me headaches."

"You'd appreciate Ireland then. Every room in the cottage is lit like this. Though not through our personal choice."

She nodded, sitting on the bed. She had changed into pajamas, he noticed. Thin cotton shorts and a tank top. He wished she had been wearing more clothes – that would have made this conversation so much easier to focus on.

She was looking at him expectantly, and he realized that he had been standing in the doorway, staring, for several minutes.

"Oh, uh, sorry." He took a seat in the armchair. "Somethin' wrong?"

She shook her head. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, the way you walked out in there." He gestured towards the bar. "It just, made me think something was bothering you."

"I'm fine. Just didn't want to hear the 'plan', that's all."

"Why not?"

"Not interested."

"No?"

"No, Murphy. I'm not interested in hearing about how you're going to off someone."

He knew that she was mad, but he couldn't help but savor the way she said his name. It sounded different coming from her.

"Is that what this is about? You don't like what we do?"

"Among other things."

"Amanda, these are evil men. We're doing the world a favor."

"You're killing people."

"Yeah, people who have killed other people. Other _innocent_ people, can't you understand that?"

"No, I'm sorry, I can't. Who are you to be judge and jury?"

"You're telling me that it doesn't piss you the fuck off when these guys are so clearly guilty and they still get off because of some stupid loophole?"

"Sure it does. It also pisses me off when people throw up in the bar, but I'm not about to start going around offing them."

"We're talking about a lot more than fools having a rough night at a bar, Amanda."

She put a hand to her head. "I don't really want to talk about this anymore."

Murphy nodded, looking defeated. "Alright. Well, please, talk to me about it later. If you like. I don't want you to go about thinking so little of us. That we're just murdering bastards."

She nodded, looking at the floor. He sat there for a few more seconds before taking a breath and standing up. He touched the side of her face lightly with the back of his index finger before turning around and walking out of the room.

~*~


	8. Chapter 8: Drunken Lullabies

**Chapter 8: Drunken Lullabies**

The spot on her face where he touched her burned throughout the night, keeping her up. She kept touching it, even went downstairs and held an ice cube up to it, but to no avail – the burning remained.

She felt bad for behaving the way she had, and for getting so worked up over the FBI agent. She sat at the bar over a glass of Maker's Mark on the rocks running the evening's events over in her mind. She was still there at 5 am, when Murphy wandered in.

He had been having a similarly sleepless night. Not good right before a job. He had a strong stomach and a stronger tolerance and finished off half a bottle of whiskey himself. He had gone to the bar to find another bottle, and instead found Amanda sitting at the bar with a drink of her own.

"You don't seem like a closet drunk." He told her. She hadn't heard him walk in, and when he spoke she jumped about fifteen feet out of her skin.

Realizing it was just Murphy, she went back to hanging her head over her drink. In contrast to her Irish friend, Amanda had almost no tolerance at all for alcohol. This was still her first glass and she was pretty lost over it.

"I'm not." She informed him. He could tell by her spaciness that she was probably tipsy. "I couldn't sleep." She finished off the drink and moved behind the bar. "WhatcanIgetcha?" She mumbled with a smile.

"I'll have a shot o' whiskey, straight up."

She obliged by pouring one for him and started fixing herself a drink.

"What're you drinkin'?" he asked, noticing that she was doing a lot of blending and pouring.

"I was drinking Maker's Mark. That's bourbon." She slurred a little bit, making him laugh. "But now I'm making a White Russian. They're delicious. And a little less powerful than bourbon straight."

"What's in one?"

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that." She slid the completed drink away from herself and hopped up to sit on top of the bar. "Tastes like chocolate milk."

"Oh, does it?"

She took a sip and nodded, thrusting it towards him, "Try."

He drank from the glass, watching her the whole time. He'd had a White Russian before, but seeing her like this was kind of fun.

"It does taste like chocolate milk." He agreed. "How many have you had tonight?"

"Oh, what're you? My nanny?"

"No, no o' course not."

"Oh. Okay then. This is my second."

"You're second?" he raised an eyebrow. "Since when?"

"Since I went to my hypothetical bed."

"So since about three?"

"I guess so." She shrugged. "I think I've had too much."

"You seem alright to me." He offered.

Amanda smiled at him. "Thanks. That's comforting."

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Where's your gun?" she asked him abruptly.

He looked at her, saddened. "Is that all you think of when I'm around?"

Shaking her head, she took a sip from her drink. "Nope. It's usually the last thing I think of."

Murphy perked up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Right before I do something stupid."

"Something stupid?"

"Yeah."

"Like what?"

The answer would have been something like, 'Right before I jump your hot Irish bones' or 'Right before I start making out with you', but Amanda held back. "Nothing. It's not important."

He nodded, slugging down his shot.

"Something else?" she offered, about to hop down. He grabbed her hips to keep her on the bar.

"Don' worry. I'll grab it myself. Not sure you could get back up there if you got down now."

"Good point." She nodded and watched him round the bar. He seemed to be switching from whiskey to beer. "So, who's younger? You or Connor?"

"Well, we're twins." He explained, "So, it's been a great mystery as to who's older. Our mum won't tell us."

"Not even a hint?"

Murphy smiled, "Well…"

"Well what?"

"Well, she said it's the one with the bigger cock. The one who was born first."

Amanda laughed so hard she almost spit her drink out. "You're kidding!"

"Nope. That's what she told us." He hopped up to sit next to her on the bar after pouring himself a Guinness.

"But if you're twins, aren't they the same size?"

"Not necessarily."

"Oh. I see." Amanda looked solemnly at her glass.

"See what?"

"Well, you're younger."

"What? How do you figure that?"

"Well, if you had the bigger one you woulda just said you were older."

"Fer yer information, I _do_ happen to have the bigger one."

"Nooo, I think yer lyin'." Her Irish accent was starting to come out.

"Okay. Well, tomorrow, when Connor's up, we'll see. Once and fer all."

"You askin' me to judge, then?"

"Maybe. If yer lucky."

Amanda just laughed, shaking her head.

"So, if you're twins, how come you two don't look alike? I mean, you look alike but you're not like, exactly alike, you know?"

"Same reason our cocks aren't the same size. We're fraternal twins."

She nodded in understanding. "You guys act alike though. D'you do that on purpose?"

"Whaddya mean?"

"I mean, like, you talk the same, act the same. Light cigarettes the same." Her mention of cigarettes seemed to incite a desire for one, because Murphy lit up. "You have the same tattoos."

"Not all the same."

"Sure."

"No, I have a few Connor doesn't."

"Oh? You have a lot."

"How d'you know?" only a few of his tattoos were visible when he was clothed.

"I've seen you naked, remember?"

After a few minutes, he did remember. "Oh yeah. So then, you know my cock's big."

She was blushing, "You can stop saying that word any time now."

"What word?" When she didn't respond, he supplied it for her, leaning in to whisper it in her ear. "Cock?"

Amanda felt herself tremble and he was so close she was afraid he'd feel it to. "I wasn't looking."

"Oh, come on. I was naked and you weren't looking? Please."

"No, really. I was a little distracted. You know, by the gun and everything." She didn't know why she said the next thing, except that when she was liquored up her words flowed more easily. "Besides, I don't have much to compare it to even if I _had_ seen it."

If she had hoped that the comment would slip by without Murphy noticing, she was very wrong.

"Excuse?" He turned his whole torso towards her. "Don't have much to compare?" She remained silent. "You haven't seen one? Up close that is?"

"Oh, god. We're not having this conversation." She hopped off of the bar and headed for a booth.

Murphy jumped down to follow. "Oh, yes, I think we are."

"I'd rather not."

She was wavering a little bit as she slipped into the booth. Murphy thought for a moment that it probably wasn't so ethical of him to be questioning her while she was drunk and he was just a little buzzed, but he was too interested to stop.

"So, how many boyfriends have ye had?"

"Two."

"In yer lifetime?"

"Yes."

She pushed her fingers through the hair on either side of her head before clasping her hands on the table. Murphy studied them from his seat across from her. She wore seven rings, he noticed with interest. On her left hand there was an official-looking ring, gold with a black stone, that he assumed was her school ring. Her middle finger held a silver band with stars across it, and the index finger sported a pewter ring with a cut out cross on it with curving filigree all around it, and her thumb was adorned with another pewter ring in the shape of a butterfly. The right ring finger had a claddagh ring, black stone heart in the center, and the middle finger had a celtic band. There was another, thicker celtic band on her thumb.

"So, you're a save it till marriage type then?" he asked, still looking at her hands.

She laughed. "Not by my own free will."

"Well then why – "

She didn't let him finish. "I think of sex as important." She explained. "I'm not gonna have it with just anybody."

Murphy nodded. "I can understand that."

"And it's kind of an uncomfortable conversation for me. So, enough."

"Yes ma'am." He nodded. "Tell me about those." He commanded, gesturing towards her rings.

She looked down, as if noticing them for the first time. "Oh. Well, this one is my college ring. And my mom gave me the butterfly. The cross, self-explanatory I think. Celtic bands are just things I like. My dad gave me the claddagh. This one," she pulled the band with the stars on it off her finger, "This is my favorite. Doc gave it to me."

Murphy looked at it and saw that it was engraved on the inside. "'Many are the starrs I see'," he read aloud, "'Yet in my eye, no starr like thee.' What's with the two Rs?"

"It's apparently a welsh thing. Anyway, my middle name is Starr. Two Rs."

"Wow. Perfect fer ya." He studied it for a few more minutes before passing it back to her.

She nodded as she replaced it on her finger. She seemed sobered up, with the alcohol starting to make her sleepy.

"Gettin' sleepy?"

Another nod was her only reply. He slipped out of the booth, came over to her side, and started to pick her up in his arms.

"I'm not too sleepy to walk!" she protested, but he lifted her anyway.

"It makes me feel manly. Humor me."

He carried her upstairs and into her room, laying her on the bed. He was backing away when she grabbed at a string of wooden beads around his neck. He let her inspect it, watching her beautiful face with interest as she pulled the rosary out from under his t-shirt and ran her thumb over the face of the cross.

"It's beautiful." She told him, tucking it back under the collar of his shirt. He smiled and stood up to leave. "Murphy?" she called after him.

He turned in the doorway. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry. About what I said earlier. I don't think you're a bad man."

He was still smiling. "I know."


	9. Chapter 9: Disappear

WARNING: This chapter includes a pretty graphic description of a woman being beaten up by a man who intends to rape her. There is BRUTAL VIOLENCE in this chapter - don't read it if you are unprepared.

* * *

**Chapter 9: Disappear**

The following morning, Amanda had a minor headache but nothing too difficult to handle with some asprin. She woke up to Doc knocking on her bedroom door, telling her she should head back home for a day or two.

"I dddon't wancha to get sssick o' workin'." He told her with a smile.

She threw the clothes she'd been wearing into a duffle bag and got ready to leave, stopping by the speakeasy to say goodbye to the boys.

"Just in case, y'all are gone or something." She explained with a shrug.

"Well, we'll miss ye. Hurry back."

"Be careful doing whatever it is you plan to do tomorrow."

~*~

Meanwhile, at the Prudential Tower…

Concezio Yakavetta was getting nervous about the Saints. They had just gunned down his entire street crew in one evening, and apparently none of them had taken a single hit. According to the Old Man, he had gotten his Sicilian in there but the man run out by shots from some woman. And the Saints were working with another guy – some Mexican sidekick. They were hiding out at McGinty's Irish Pub, owned by some old man and run by that old man's ripe young granddaughter.

Something needed to be done to teach these guys a lesson.

The Old Man had his Sicilian scout out the bar where the Saints were hiding out. Why he didn't just have him kill the guys, Concezio couldn't understand. All he knew was that the Old Man wanted something else. Something more dangerous. And dangerous was what he was good at.

~*~

Amanda left the bar around 4 pm and headed out to her car, which she had parked in the corner of a lot out back. She had her duffle bag hiked up high on her shoulder and she crossed the lot and unlocked her car remotely.

Opening the trunk, she moved to toss the bag in. A second later she felt a sharp pain shoot up through her skull and her world went black.

~*~

"Woah. That was too easy." Johnny Beluci thought to himself as the girl went limp in his arms. He looked around, shut the trunk, and brought her over to the van.

~*~

Amanda awoke later with a massive headache on the floor of a dark, windowless room. In the distance she could hear car horns and, she thought, a siren or two.

The room was small and completely empty other than a plate in the corner by the door that looked to have some cold chicken and peas on it. She wondered how long it had been there.

Where was she?

What had happened?

She remembered saying goodbye to the boys, walking to her car, and then – nothing. Black.

She reached up to clutch her head, to try to stop the throbbing. She slid her hand towards the back of her scalp and felt a large gash. She touched it gingerly, wincing. She'd been hit?

Amanda barely had time to collect herself when a door swung open to her left, revealing the silhouette of a heavyset man.

She could hear his heavy breathing from where she cowered on the floor. "Well, good morning hot stuff."

~*~

"Bboys! Boys!" Murphy, Connor, and Rom were startled away from their jovial pool game when Doc burst through the door into their hideout.

"Doc, aren't we supposed ta be hidin'? Whatcha doin' yellin' out during the middle o' the day fer us?" Connor asked him with a laugh.

"Boys, this is im-im-important. FUCK…ASS."

"Sure, Doc, what's doin'?"

"It's Am-Am-Amm-Amanda. She was sss'posed ta leave today but her c-c-car is ssstill here."

"So she dinna leave yet, Doc."

"No! No nno! Sssshe's n-n-n-nowhere!"

The boys looked at each other, confused.

"I th-th-think ssssometh-th-thing's h-happened."

"Okay, Doc. We'll call Eunice. Meantime, let's see 'er car."

The boys went out back to check out the situation. Sure enough, there was Amanda's car, abandoned, with a duffle bag lying in the gravel next to it. Murphy bent down and unzipped the bag, finding that it was full of clothes.

"These are the pajamas she was wearing last night."

He straightened up and looked around the lot with Connor and Rom.

"Hey, those look like tire tracks, man." Romeo pointed out two thick lines in the thin dirt leading away from the lot.

"Is that a shoe?" Connor pointed to the corner of the lot. Murphy's legs followed his gaze and sure enough, there was one of Amanda's beaded black flip flops lying on top of the gravel.

"Yeah. It's hers." Murphy clung to the tiny shoe is if it was Amanda herself.

"What the fuck happened?" Connor looked really worked up.

"Yakavetta." Murphy gave voice to their concerns.

"Oh god Murph, what have we gotten them into? Doc – he'll never forgive us. What the hell are we gonna do? Oh shit. Oh Christ…"

Murphy crossed the lot in ten long strides, grabbed his brother by the shoulders and gave him a firm shake. "What're we gonna do? We're gonna fuckin' find 'er, that's what we're gonna do." He checked his guns, as if merely looking at them could give him strength. "We need to get the word out the detectives. Tell them what we know – they've got to have some way of figuring this shit out."

"We – we need better guns." Connor looked at Murphy. "Bigger ones."

"Of course. I'm gonna fuck some people up hard."

~*~

The boys had sent Romeo to get in touch with the Feds and let them know what happened. While the Feds were scouting the scene, the boys went to their source to get newer, better guns and ammo. They picked up two .367 magnums Desert Eagle Mark XIXs each, with custom muzzle brakes, ready to do some serious damage.

They met up with Eunice outside the pub that evening.

"Alright boys, a security camera from the neighboring store's lot shows your girl was hit over the head with something by a heavyset, dark-haired man as she was putting her bag into her trunk. That man, who we have identified as Johnny Beluci from a distinctive tattoo on his forearm, is a petty criminal, mostly robberies and a few assault charges. Lately, he's been doing some intro work for Yakavetta, we think looking to get initiated into the ring of thieves. We were only able to get half the plate, but we believe that we tracked the right blue industrial van to a vacant lot outside the shipyard. Here's the address." She handed the Connor a piece of paper folded in half. "But look, if this is what I'm thinking, it's bait. They'll be waiting for you."

"And we can't wait to see them either." Murphy told her, already getting into the passenger's side of Romeo's car.

~*~

Amanda watched the man watching her from the doorway. She didn't say a word and instead stood waiting for her opportunity. Sure enough, eventually someone from within a room beyond called the man's name – Johnny – and he turned his head. She took the opportunity to pounce.

She took him by surprise, succeeding in digging her nails across the side of his face. He recovered quickly, though, and threw her clean across the room.

"JESUS! Micky – get in here and fucking tie this dumb fucking cat up! You fucking moron what the FUCK were you thinking."

"Oh, geez man, I'm sorry." A smaller, weasly man came in to the room and, with the big man's help, tied Amanda's arms firmly behind her back, with handcuffs at the wrists and rope around her elbows. The bonds were so tight they almost pulled her arms out of their sockets.

"We're goin' on a trip." The man called Johnny whispered in her ear. She shivered as she felt spit land on her earlobe.

"What do you want?"

"Right now? You to be quiet." And with that, he tied a gag around her mouth, jerked her upwards by the arm, and led her from the room. They were in what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. She saw that Johnny and Micky were in the company of about five or six other Italian thugs, all of whom seemed pleased when she was jerked into the garage-looking area of the warehouse. "Welcome to our humble abode." Johnny gestured around, gun in hand. "These are the fellas. Fellas, say hello to the lady."

There was a chorus of "hi's" all around.

"Now, what are we doing here, you're wondering? Well, we're waiting for those fucking Jesus freak friends of yours to show up so that we can show them what's what, that's what we're doing here. But your friends, see, they're kinda slow. And we're kinda good at what we do. So, they won't be showing up here for another ten hours or so. In the meantime, we have to come up with some way to amuse ourselves."

He threw her to the ground and she looked around her with wide eyes as the men seemed to gather around.

"They'll be coming for you, all right. But they might not find you in, let's say, mint condition."

He reared back and slapped her hard across the face. He was wearing a heavy gold ring, and she felt her cheek burst open.

"Amusement seemed to deliver itself right to our door, didn't it fellas?" He knelt down, grabbed her by the hair, and slammed her head backwards. She blinked a few times, feeling the pain swell in her head, wishing that she would pass out so that she didn't have to be awake to witness what was about to happen to her.

He stood up, walked over to the table, and returned with a pocket knife. Amanda thought he was going to stab her, but instead he used it to cut her shirt apart. He face flushed with humiliation as he went after each piece of clothing, one by one, until she was left shaking in the middle of a circle of men in only her bra and underwear. She curled up into the fetal position and refused to move.

"Stand up." When she didn't answer his command, Johnny kicked her in the side. Hard. Amanda heard her ribs crack. The gag prevented her from crying out, but she felt tears begin to run down her cheeks.

"Aw sweetie, there's no reason to be scared. You've got a house full of Italian Stallions here. It'll be the best lay you've ever had."

She closed her eyes and willed herself to black out, but despite the intense pain she was feeling, blackness wouldn't come. She heard the man undo his belt and seconds later felt the buckle collide with her back.

"See, these Saints," he explained, giving her another whip. She could feel the pin of the buckle jam itself into her back. "They've been giving us some serious problems." Another whip. "And, to be honest, we were wondering if there was any way at all to get to them. And then it hit us," he accentuated his words with another lash, "If they're so into being proper. Well, let's take something that belongs to them. Something that they care about." Whip. "And apparently," he pulled her to her feet by her arm, "They care quite a lot about you and that old man of yours."

He pulled her over to a table and shoved her down over it.

"Do me a favor? Don't get blood on my tablecloth."


	10. Chapter 10: Safe

**Chapter 10: Safe**

She could hear the men getting riled up and focused all of her effort on blocking out the noise. She was trying to think of something calm, something peaceful. Interestingly enough, her "escape place" became her drunken conversation the night before with Murphy.

She focused on reliving the memory and didn't even hear the door burst open and the firefight begin. But she did feel the thug's hold on her loosen and fell to the floor, where she curled up, arms still tied, and started to cry. She was pretty much unaware of anything other than gunshots.

Soon enough, she did such a great job of blocking everything out that all she saw was Murphy's face, and all she heard was his voice.

"Amanda! Amanda! Oh, my god."

It sounded so real.

"Open your eyes, Mandi. Open them."

She obeyed him and saw that it wasn't a figment of her imagination – Murphy was kneeling there in front of her. He used a knife to release her arms and pulled her into a seated position.

"That man did this to you, didn't he?" He pointed across the room to where Connor and Rom had the big man Johnny kneeling, presumably waiting for Murphy to return for their customary execution. The room was silent except for the thugs weezing and pleas.

Amanda nodded and Murphy took off his black pea coat, wrapping it around her. "Can you stand?"

She slowly got to her bare feet, leaning heavily to the right to nurse her cracked ribs. She must have looked really bad, because Romeo and Connor were staring at her as if they were seeing a dead person walking.

Realizing that Murphy was leading her in the direction of Johnny she whimpered and tried to move away, but he held her firmly and made her keep walking until she was standing almost directly in front of him. She couldn't look away from the evil man's eyes, and she felt Murphy press something metal into her hands.

She looked down and saw that she was holding a gun.

Murphy moved to stand behind her for support. He helped her hands into the right position, arms straight out, pistol right between the evil man's eyes. She knew what he was asking, but she couldn't bring herself to be able to watch the man die, knowing that she was responsible.

"I – I can't. I can't do it. I'm sorry."

"He beat the shit out of you."

"I know. I don't know why, but I just can't."

He turned her around and looked into her eyes. Her face was a mess of smeared blood and tears, but she was still beautiful. She looked scared. Horrified. He nodded at her and held her close to his side as he moved around to stand next to Connor. Behind the kneeling, condemned man, Amanda watched the brothers begin to pray.

"And shepherds we shall be,

For Thee, my Lord, for Thee,

Power hath descended forth from Thy hand,

That our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command,

So we shall flow a river forth to Thee,

And teeming with souls shall it ever be,

In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti."

Amanda closed her eyes tightly as she heard the shots ring out, and didn't open them until they were safe in a moving vehicle.

~*~

Murphy's concerned face hovered over her for the entire car ride.

"We need to get you to a hospital."

"No," she shook her head, coughing a little, "No hospital."

"Amanda, you're beat to shit. You have broken bones."

"No hospital." She commanded. Her eyes felt so heavy. She let her eyelids settle down and her head fall heavily onto Murphy's chest.

"Alright, let's take her home then."


	11. Chapter 11: Fixed

**Chapter 11: Fixed**

They arrived at McGinty's around 2 am, and found Doc waiting for them.

"Jeysus Ch-ch-christ. W-W-What the hell hhhhappened?"

"Connor will tell you. I'm gonna take her upstairs."

Murphy held a sleeping Amanda in his arms delicately, and whispered to his friends so as not to wake her. She was still wrapped in his coat, and was drifting in and out of consciousness. He reached her door and nudged it open with his foot. Laying her on the bed, he hurried to the bathroom to wet a washcloth and returned to her side to wipe as much of the blood away as he could.

He was wiping her forehead when she woke up. "I – I want to shower."

Murphy looked from her to the bathroom a few times. "Yeh don't have a shower, love."

"Then a bath. Whatever. I feel – gross."

He nodded and helped her into the bathroom. He sat her on the toilet as he ran the bathwater, checking the temperature every few seconds to make sure it didn't get too hot.

"You'll be alright?" he asked her once the tub had been filled. "I'll be just downstairs."

"I'm fine."

Her tone told him otherwise, but he still left to give her privacy and to talk things over with the boys downstairs.

"I'm going to kill all those fuckers." He grumbled as he reached the landing and headed for the bar where Connor, Rom, and Doc were drinking beers and taking shots. "Slowly this time."

"Of all the people to go after – " Connor trailed off, knowing that his feelings were echoed by everyone else.

"Is she okay?" Romeo asked.

Murphy nodded, "She wanted to take a bath. Can't get that fuckin' Italian smell off o' her soon enough I imagine."

The boys talked for about an hour about their plan to hit the rest of Yakavetta's men before Murphy decided to check on Amanda. He found her cradled up in the now cold bath water, crying.

Her skin was red, and Murphy saw that she had been using a scouring mitt to scrub herself.

"I can't get it off." She explained to him between sobs. "I still feel it everywhere."

Staring at the pathetic picture, Murphy could feel his heart breaking. He grabbed a towel and helped her out of the tub, averting his eyes like a true gentleman. Amanda smiled with gratitude.

He sat in the arm chair as she rifled around her drawers for underwear, a pair of plaid pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt, and appropriately closed his eyes while she dropped the towel, put them on, and crawled underneath the covers. Her face was red from tears, but she seemed to have calmed down a little bit.

"You should let me look at your cuts." He told her, moving to sit on the bed.

She shrugged. "I'll be okay."

He wanted to protest but at the same time, didn't want to push too hard. So, he just nodded and let her lie down.

"I'm sorry."

He looked at her, brows pulled together in confusion. "Yer sorry ? What the hell fer?"

"For not having the guts to kill him."

Murphy looked meaningfully into her eyes. "Guts has nothin' ta do with it. You know why I gave ye that gun?" he asked her, pushing her bangs out of her eyes with his hand. Amanda shook her head no. "I gave ye the gun because I thought that that might be the only way ye'd have closure after what he'd done ta ya. I needed to give ye that opportunity." He explained, "But, it says something about ye, they ye couldn't shoot him, even then. You know what that says?" Another shake of her head prompted him to continue. "It says that you, you crazy girl, are a good person. A genuinely good person. People like you are the reason Connor and I do what we do."

"I don't understand."

He leaned in so that he was just inches away from her face. "People like you are rare, Amanda. And ye need to be protected. Ye are easy to take advantage of because yer so damn good. We need to make sure nothin' happens to ya, because people like you, Mandi, yer one in a million."

Amanda wasn't sure what to say. She was struck by the sincerity evident in his words, but wasn't sure if she really agreed with what he said. She was no saint, and she didn't see much that she was contributing to the world around her.

"I don't think so." She shook her head, her voice was strained. "You guys, you do the important stuff. You do what no one else can do. No one else has the guts to do. _You're_ rare." She reached up and felt his rosary through the think cloth of his shirt. "I wish I could have killed him. I wanted to. So badly. I just don't have what it takes."

"I'm okay with ye not havin' what it takes." Murphy smiled and reached up to run his fingers through her hair. His keen eyes noticed her wince, and he was immediately back to business.

"Somethin' wrong?" he asked, but he was already nudging her on to her side so that he could see her back. For the first time, he noticed the redness on her neck, and blood was seeping through her shirt from wounds on her back. "Oh Christ, Amanda. Wait here."

He returned moments later with a handful of first aid materials. "Why the hell dinna ye tell me about this earlier?"

"I didn't think it was a big deal."

"Not a big deal?! What the hell did 'e use to make these marks?"

"A belt."

Murphy felt his insides begin to boil with some kind of rage as he lifted up the back of her shirt. There were eight or nine deep punctures, each surrounded by a dark square from the outside of the buckle. "Fuckin' psycho." He grumbled.

She didn't say anything, but buried her head into her pillow.

He worked quietly, and even hummed a little when he thought she wouldn't notice. Of course, she noticed. She felt him clean each wound, then gently apply ointment and a bandage to them.

He finished about ten minutes later and she felt him stand up. "Great. Now I've got tape all over me."

"It was the 'no-ouch' kind." He informed her with a smile. He gathered the first aid supplies up and headed for the door. "You'll be alright in here?"

Amanda nodded into the pillow and mumbled "Goodnight" to him, but her heart sank when he shut the door behind him.

~*~

When Murphy got up in the middle of the night to check on Amanda he didn't find her in her room. He headed down towards the bar, where he found her sitting at the bar with a glass of milk and a plate of food.

"Cabbage and oreos? Nutritious." He smiled and took a seat next to her.

"I love cabbage."

He smiled. "Ye alright? Ye should be sleepin'." He chided while he lit a cigarette.

"I couldn't get to sleep."

"Try again."

"Let me finish my cabbage."

"Yer absurd."

She just shrugged and dipped an oreo in her milk. "How come you're up?"

"I was gonna check on ye."

"I appreciate it." She looked at his clothing out of the corner of her eye. "Why aren't you wearing pajamas?" Murphy was still clad in jeans and a dark blue t-shirt. Even though she had been traumatized recently, Amanda couldn't help but appreciate the way the shirt showed off his fit physique. He had really nice arms, she realized. Powerful. He was still wearing his wooden rosary.

"Well, ta be honest, I don' really wear pajamas."

"Why not?"

"Long story."

She was looking at him expectantly.

"Well, did yer grandda ever tell ye how Connor and I got into this?"

She knew that he was referring to their "jobs" as killer-killers. "No."

"Well, it had to do with this bar, actually. Some Russian pricks were givin' yer grandda some trouble about 'is lease. We – we might have roughed the fellas up a bit."

She gave him a scolding look. "You shouldn't go around looking for trouble."

"We weren't lookin' fer it! It found us!" Murphy defended himself. "Anyway, the next day these guys come trackin' us down in our loft. Early in the mornin', right? We'd just fuckin' woken up. So, these mobsters beat the shit outta us, I'm paraphrasing here, and we're walkin' around the city lookin' fer a hospital in our bathrobes. I promised meself I'd never get caught with ma proverbial pants down again."

Murphy was laughing at the memory, but Amanda was looking at him with sadness and pity in her eyes.

"What?"

"I just – Do you think you'll ever be able to relax?"

"Whaddya mean?"

"I mean, will you ever be able to sleep without your boots on?"

He took a long drag from his cigarette. "I imagine so. We did for quite a while. When we were home."

"In Ireland? You mean before you came back to find the men who killed that priest?"

He nodded. "We had all but forgotten this life." He seemed to be remembering for a moment before he vigorously shook his head. "But, someone's got to do the dirty work around 'ere, right?" he put out the rest of his cigarette. "Come on, ta bed with ye."

She gingerly eased her way off the seat. "I took a bunch of Advil." She informed him. "But I think it's time for another dose."

He helped her up the stairs, realizing that she was only wearing a t-shirt and underwear. Of course, she'd refreshed the shirt that she'd put on before after her blood had stained it, and there was just one layer of thin fabric between his hands and her skin. He hated himself when his mind started to drift.

'She's just experienced one of the most horrifying moments of her life,' his brain yelled, 'and all I can think about is banging her? I'm going to hell for sure.'

He saw her into bed and was going to leave when she called after him.

"Murph?"

He liked the way she used his nickname.

"Yah?"

"I – I hope this isn't weird. You can say no if you want," she was lying on her side on the bed, "It's just – I don't know. But, would you – would it be okay if – " she clearly couldn't figure out how to ask whatever she wanted to ask.

"What is it, love?"

"Will you stay with me?" her eyes were pleading with him. "Just until I fall asleep. You don't have to touch me or anything – I just – I keep having these dreams…"

Murphy shut the door and headed back towards the bed.

"It doesn't – I'm not hitting on you or anything." She assured him, clearly extremely nervous about asking for company. She watched him take a seat in the armchair to begin unlacing his boots. "And I wouldn't ask, but I just feel like it might help – "

"Amanda, I'm going to stay. Just taking off my shoes. You can stop explaining how you're not attracted to me."

Her face got red and she turned around on the bed so that she was facing the wall. She listened to the rustling of Murphy getting ready for bed with a smile. A few minutes later, she felt the bed shift as he sat on it and then moved to lie next to her.

"Now, I know ye said I don't have to touch you, but is it okay if I do?" She looked over her shoulder at him. "It's just that, this bed is kind of small. I promise I won't take advantage."

She smiled. "It's fine."

He slipped one arm underneath her neck and the other over and around her waist. She could feel her heart start to pound rapidly and hoped that he couldn't feel it too. It had been a really long time since she'd actually…cuddled with anyone. That was what they were doing, right? Cuddling?

"If I were you, I wouldn't mention this to Connor. He'd never leave us alone."

"Or Romeo." He could hear her smile in her response, "He'd tell Connor. And everyone else around for the next thirty years."

"Very true."

They were silent for a few moments, and Amanda reflected on the fine line she was walking between being totally uncomfortable and nervous and being completely relaxed in his arms. At times, he seemed so strong that she had almost thought that lying next to him would be like lying next to a brick wall, but he was surprisingly soft. The feeling of his chest moving in and out with each breath he took instantly soothed her.

She adjusted her neck a little in its place over his right arm. "If your arm starts to fall asleep, just hit me and I'll move."

"I think you've been hit enough for one night, don't you?"

"You know what I mean."

Murphy felt like a giddy thirteen-year-old again. Before, money (or the brothers' lack thereof) had been a hurdle when it came to getting girls. They were also know to have pretty high standards when it came to women. Later, as a result of the tempestuous nature of their new "career", relationships were just a bit inconvenient. Not a lot of women were alright with their boyfriends murdering people in their off-time. Regardless, it had been a long time since Murphy had been this close to a woman in an intimate setting. Yeah, he knew that he shouldn't interpret it as anything romantic, but his father had always said that no one job could beat the feeling of soft curves next to you in a warm bed.

There was that smell, stronger than ever. The smell that he had come to recognize as uniquely Amanda. Warm cinnamon, vanilla, other elements he couldn't really trace. It was incredible.

"I don't think I snore." She informed him.

He laughed, and she felt his breath ruffle her hair. "I don't either."

"Okay. Good to know."

"Goodnight, Mandi."

"Night, Murph."

~*~


	12. Chapter 12: You're Still Here

**Chapter 12: You're Still Here**

Amanda woke the next morning, surprised to find Murphy still lying next to her. They had switched positions, and she found herself lying in the crook of his arm with her arm wrapped around his stomach. His opposite hand reached across his chest to rest on her shoulder.

He was warm, and she nuzzled more deeply into his side. From where she was, she had a close-up view of the tattoo on his forearm. Her eyes traced the interwoven chords of the cross with keen interest, and for the first time she noticed a little bit of color splashed into the design.

"Good morning."

She looked up and into Murphy's now-open deep blue eyes. When she opened her mouth to respond, she was overcome with the need to yawn and dipped her head downwards to cover her mouth as she did.

His chest rumbled with a low chuckle as she rolled to the side. "I mean, thanks for staying." She smiled sheepishly once she could get her words out.

"Of course, love."

"Did you sleep okay?"

"Like a rock."

She nodded before tossing her feet over him to get to stand up.

"Where ye goin'? he asked her with a frown.

"Have to get up." She explained. "Doc's got no one to run the bar."

"Doncha think ye should take it easy for a while?" he asked, crossing the room for his boots. It was a strangely comfortable scene – waking up with her.

She had gone into the bathroom, and he could hear her washing up. "Why would I do that?"

"Amanda."

She poked her head around the table and gave him a mocking "serious" face. "Murphy."

He rolled his eyes. "I just think that maybe ye should take a day to yerself or something – "

She exited the bathroom stand in front of him. "Murphy, my brain is full of horrible things. The last thing I want right now is time to myself."

Murphy nodded in acknowledgment of her wishes. "Want me to check those fer ye?" he gestured towards her bandages.

Amanda shook her head no. "Maybe later. I'll let them stew for a while."

"Alright, well," Murphy had laced his boots and rose to his feet, "I've got to go. Big day today."

He watched her eyes sadden as she realized what he was talking about. The job with the Yakavettas was that night.

"Okay."

His hand was on the door when she stopped him with a tug on his sleeve.

"You're going to be careful, right?"

"Of course, love."

"And you won't do anything ridiculous?"

"Not planning on it."

"Okay then." She removed her hand from his arm. "I'm trusting your word."

"I'll be fine." He told her with confidence in his eyes. She let him turn the door knob before giving him another jerk.

"One more thing – "

It had been so long since Murphy had kissed anyone that the sensation was completely alien to him at first. His eyes reflexively closed as he came into contact with her smooth lips, but he opened them seconds later just to make sure that it wasn't all a figment of his imagination. A quick glance at the bed told him that they had, in fact, woken up, so he probably wasn't dreaming.

Yeah, it was unbelievable at first. But he caught on quickly.

To Amanda's surprise, Murphy abandoned his state of limp surprise to grasp her head between two strong, rough hands. She hadn't exactly planned on kissing him, but when she found out what he and that insane brother of his were up to tonight, she figured, what the hell?

But now, he was kissing her back. She felt that familiar slow burning sensation building up in the pit of her stomach – the one you get when you're nervous/excited and eager to know what is going to happen in the future. He kicked the intensity up in moments when she felt the velvet slip of his tongue work its way past her lower lip.

Then, just like that, she clammed up and pulled away.

He stood there, looking shell-shocked. "That was – "

"In case you die." She finished for him, avoiding any critique he might have wanted to give of the kissing process. "I mean, not that I'm waiting for it to happen or anything."

Murphy's feet felt as though they were glued to the floor.

"Don't you have to go?"

He looked at her with confusion. She kissed him, but now she couldn't wait for him to leave?

"Oh. Uh, yes. Yes, I'm just going – Just – to go."

She watched his retreating form with some sadness before heading down to stand in her familiar place behind the bar.


	13. Chapter 13: Waiting

**Chapter 13: Waiting**

That day was absolutely the most nerve-wracking that Amanda had ever experienced in her entire life.

Murphy, Connor, and Romeo were going to kill Yakavetta, that much she knew. But how? When? Where? Would they get hurt? Would anyone else get hurt? Were they going to be horribly cruel to him? Did he deserve it? Did _anyone_ deserve that?

These were just some of the millions of questions running through her mind as she obsessively cleaned the bar for what was probably the ten millionth time that day.

It was hell, trying to keep calm but knowing what was going on somewhere across town, behind closed doors. How could everyone be so_ normal_? How could they not know what was going on? Somewhere in Boston, someone's life was ending. Maybe right at that moment. And yet, nothing seemed any different.

She thought that she should feel different, somehow. That there should be some sign of slowing down in the world. Even though she knew that that was a completely unrealistic expectation – no one even knew what was happening, and even if they did, Yakavetta wasn't exactly an angel – but somehow it seemed impossible that something so huge was happening and yet no one else seemed aware of it.

She hadn't heard from them all day.

Not since they had left. Since she'd…

Ugh, well, she didn't really want to think about that.

But she had to. Every other thought for her was about Murphy and that kiss. How incredible it was, how natural it was, how much she had wanted it to last longer. Much longer.

So then, why had she pulled away?

The truth was, she didn't even know. He had kissed her back, of that she was certain. But what did that mean? Was it reflexive? Or was he maybe, just maybe, interested in her too? And since when was she _interested _in him?

She hadn't had a crush in a long time, but she was pretty sure this was what it felt like.

Shouldn't they be home by now?

No sooner had she thought those words then the boys came barreling through the door.

"That was awesome!" Romeo was yelling. She watched with wide eyes as he whipped two pearl-handled pistols out of his belt.

Her mind was a grainy blend of emotion – she was happy to see them, but instantly angry that they hadn't checked in. What, had they gone drinking or something? One by one they entered, the whole crew settling in at the bar. They all said hello to her, and she could feel Murphy's stare hot on her face as she poured them their drinks.

Murphy was confused. Leaving today, he had felt pretty good about Amanda. But now, she wouldn't even look at him. What the hell had happened?

Amanda listened to them shoot the shit for about an hour before deciding that she wanted to be alone for a bit. She murmured a good night, quite sure that no one was listening, and kissed Doc on the cheek before taking the steps two at a time.

She swung the door shut behind her but was surprised when she heard it pop back open. Turning around, she saw Murphy standing in the doorway.

"Well?"

Her eyebrows came together in confusion. "Well what?"

"Well, are we going to talk about any of this?"

"Any of what?" She moved to turn away, but he grabbed her by the arm, knocking the door shut behind him with his foot.

"Ye know very well what I mean." He hissed at her. She was a bit taken aback by the intensity of his gaze.

"I just wanted to go to bed."

"Bullshit. Ye dinna say one word to me down there. I wanna know why."

"Well, _you _dinna say anythin' to me then, didja?" Amanda couldn't stop the brogue, but he could tell that she hated the words as they left her mouth.

"Oh, what, are ye offended now?"

"_You_ were offended first!" she declared jerking her arm away from him and busying herself with pulling some pajamas out of a drawer. "Why don't you just go back downstairs and finish your conversation with your little detective girlfriend?"

To her surprise and embarrassment, a smile spread across Murphy's face. "Oh, is tha' what this is? Yer _jealous_, are ye?"

"What!" Amanda denied the accusation a little too vehemently. "Bullshit. Leave me alone. I want to go to bed ye fuckass."

"What did you just call me?"

"You heard me just fine."

"Why doncha just bottle up a bit o' that hostility and save it fer someone who deserves it, eh? I've had a very long day and the las' thin' I want is ye yellin' at me."

"I'm not yellin'!"

Murphy just smirked and Amanda turned away, face flushed with anger and frustration.

"How do you expect me to act? You leave to go murder someone, don't call, don't tell anyone if you're alright. And I'm just supposed to sit here and hypothesize about where you might be and how many pieces your body is in and how the hell I'm going to find all of them to give you a fucking proper burial. And then you just waltz in here-"

In a second Murphy had crossed the room and had grabbed her up again, this time by both of her upper arms. Before she knew what was happening his lips were on hers.


	14. Chapter 14: Damnit

::sigh:: I've gotta warn you guys... This one gets kinda dirty... Don't read it if you don't want to blush O.O I tried to keep it classy though. Hope it satisfies your cravings!

* * *

**Chapter 14: Damnit**

This kiss wasn't really like the last one. The last one hadn't exactly been gentle, but it had undertones of exploration. This one was angry and urgent. He wove his hands through her hair, trying to be mindful of her wounds while also trying to touch her in as many places as he could. His tongue was playing with hers in ways she had never experienced before. So _this_ was what a good kiss was like…

He took her by surprise when, with a sudden low growl he moved his hands to her butt and thrust her swiftly upwards, lifting her in his arms so that their faces were almost level. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, so absorbed in the kissing that she wasn't even worried about him dropping her.

There was no coming up for air. She felt his hands tighten on her behind as he moved her towards the bed and practically fell on top of her. Nothing slowed down – they were kissing and pawing at each other like wild animals who had waited far too long to feel each other. In the distance, she could hear rowdy conversation continuing at the bar but she didn't care – much more important to her was the sound of Murphy breathing, and the feeling of his heart rapidly banging through his chest and into hers. She didn't even think about the rightness or wrongness of what they were doing; each time a thought came to her, he pushed it away like he pushed his hand up her thigh.

She didn't know how long they had been lying there, making out, but the energy never died down. She found a vixen inside her that she didn't know existed and used her to slide her hands underneath his shirt and gently rake her fingernails over his muscular back. His eyes closed tightly and he groaned before opening them to look at her.

Unable to control her own movements, she found herself tugging at his shirt. He obliged her, pulling it up over his head and tossing it haphazardly onto the floor. Wide eyes surveyed his chest, muscular, tattooed, and scarred. Her fingers took over the exploring task for her eyes and seconds later her lips joined in, followed by her tongue. She felt delighted at his satisfied, sharp inhaling and exhaling. She slowed their pace a bit, wanting proper time to enjoy him. Pulling him downwards, she took his place on top, straddling his thighs.

Murphy watched in amazement as Amanda began to explore nearly every inch of him. He had never been treated this way by a woman before – she was touching him almost like she was afraid of hurting him. He was okay with her taking her time, wanting to be sure that she was comfortable. He hadn't intended to jump her bones tonight, but as things progressed he knew that it would not be possible to break away. He shifted a little, trying to alleviate the pressure that only aroused men felt, and was surprised and incredibly turned on when she got the message and began to undo his jeans. She climbed off and let him finish them the rest of the way. Once he finished, he sat up and administered to her shirt, keenly aware of her hands not leaving his back and her eyes not leaving his body. She was clearly inexperienced, and she stared wide-eyed at him and all of his glorious manhood like it was the scariest thing she'd ever seen.

Noticing the look on her face, he tossed her shirt to the side and kissed her chest a few times before stopping all action to pull her face up to meet his. Slowly, her eyes followed and he was staring into those gorgeous green orbs, so innocent and yet so incredibly full of want.

"Ye alright?"

She nodded, not speaking. Her throat felt dry and she was pretty sure that her voice would crack if she tried to say anything.

"We don't have to – "

"I know." She cut him off. She seemed to regain confidence as she stood by the bedside and guided his hands to her own jeans. "I want to."

That was all the encouragement that Murphy needed. She sighed as he laid light kisses across her abdomen, gently undressing her. Finally, his hands could touch her like he'd been dying to ever since he'd met her.

Her skin was even smoother than he'd imagined it would be, and she moved with a gentle but extremely sexual grace as she knelt to her knees in front of him. For someone with so little experience, she certainly seemed to know what she was doing and he had to pull her up before he embarrassed himself. He wanted the evening, her first time, to last and to be special like she wanted it to be.

"My turn."

His whisper sent nervous chills up her spine and he gently nudged her back to lie down on the bed. He crawled on top of her and she tried to rid herself of modesty and nervousness as he sat back to appreciate her. He ran his fingers – fingers that had seemed so rough when they were holding that gun – along her sides, causing ticklish twitches that she tried to control. He smiled sexily as he knelt over her, kissing her arms, shoulders, chest, and stomach while skillfully unclasping her bra. She wondered briefly how many times he'd done this…

She knew that her underwear was next, of course, and he did not disappoint. Over the next half hour or so, Murphy did things to Amanda that she didn't know could be done, and touched her in places she had no idea could and should be touched. His mouth was hot on her skin and she enjoyed every minute of it.

Murphy was trying to take his time, but Amanda was making it incredibly difficult for him. The noises she was making – deep moans accompanied by the occasional surprised squeal of delight – were driving him mad. Not to mention the faces. Every time he looked up to see her biting her lip, head turned slightly to the side in timid rapture, he almost lost it. Finally, after he'd pleasured her at least four times, he decided that he couldn't take any more and moved up to lay flat on top of her.

He had never really thought about wanting sex to be romantic before. Sex was usually… sexy. Romance was back-burnered. But for some reason, seeing her look into his eyes like that, Murphy was hoping to god that this was going to be the most incredible night she'd ever have. He wove their fingers together and used light pressure to keep her hands at either side of her head as she moved to accommodate him. Looking deep into her eyes, he made the trigger move and was surprised when her hips jumped up to meet his, mirroring the movement of her lips towards his mouth. It took all he had not to end it all on the first passionate thrust.

Murphy had to still an over-eager Amanda for a few long seconds while he calmed himself down a bit. Once he felt like he had regained a little of his self-control, he released her and started again.

He had been nervous about being her first – the one time he'd taken a girl's virginity it had been back in Ireland, at the ripe old age of fourteen, and she had pretty much screamed in pain. He predicted the same reaction from Amanda, but to his surprise she didn't seem to feel much pain at all. She took a minute to get used to the sensation and a few times he held himself back when he noticed her wince a little, afraid he was getting overzealous. But each time she would smile back at him encouragingly and they would continue, starting out slowly and growing more and more urgent as they neared their release. Before too long she jerked her hands out from under his, determined to use them instead to hold on to his strong back. In the end, they were able to achieve it together, and they almost laughed as they tried to conceal their final cries of passion from their friends downstairs.

An exhausted Murphy collapsed on top of Amanda, his head lying next to hers and his body remaining there on top of hers. He shifted his weight slightly, so as not to crush her, and she brought one hand up to stroke his back as the other one found his hair and began to rub his scalp. Her eyes were closed and her head was inclined towards his, and Murphy had one horrible, life-altering thought.

He was in love, damnit.


End file.
